Only a Cabaret
by raptoregg64
Summary: Bombalurina reminisces about the time before Macavity took control. And when an old friend visits, she's forced to do something that just might spark rebellion. This is a oneshot, and songfic to two-and-a-half songs from Cabaret. Enjoy!


_A tuxedo tom grinned mischievously as he bowed to the audience, quickly coming forward to the microphone._

"_And now, meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the toast of London…" He gestured to the curtain behind him, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. "Madame Bombalurina."_

* * *

><p>I stare wistfully at the dusty stage, memories flooding my mind. I ignore the blood stains as I slowly make my way past toppled tables and cobweb-covered chairs. The club isn't anywhere near what it had been- then again, <em>nowhere<em> is like what it had been, not since Macavity took control. The blood of countless Jellicles stains the soil of England, and I am one of the few who have survived.

But my "survival" has made me realize that my love was right, the night he left me- I've never gotten anywhere without sleeping with someone. My job at the club, as headlining singer? The club's owner could have found any other, more talented singer. Everlasting knew that there were enough of them in the city.

And yet he chose me.

I suppose I should be grateful- it gave me the experience I needed to know that I could survive, if I could just pique Macavity's interest. It also gave me the experience I needed to know that I had to _keep _his interest piqued, if I wanted to continue surviving. After all, I had lost my job when I had lost the manager's attention.

* * *

><p><em>The red queen, clothed in splendid black velvet, gave a sunny smile as she stepped onto stage. She took a breath as the pianist started to play.<em>

"_What good is sitting alone in your room?_

_Come hear the music play!_

_Life is a cabaret, old chum-_

_Come to the cabaret!_

* * *

><p>The older queens had scorned me for my carefree lifestyle. They used to say that I would be the next Grizabella if I carried on the way I did. I had always retorted fiercely and walked away, making myself even more enemies in the process.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Put down the knitting,<em>

_The book and the broom;_

_Time for a holiday!_

_Life is a cabaret, old chum-_

_Come to the cabaret!"_

* * *

><p>I have never understood why they worked so hard- looking after kittens, knitting blankets for the other cats so they wouldn't freeze in winter. They got nothing out of it, so why did they even bother? I didn't see the point in doing anything you didn't get any gain out of.<p>

When I saw Jelly die in front of the kittens' nursery to protect them from Macavity's henchcats, I finally understood why. It was all about love.

* * *

><p>"<em>Come taste the wine,<em>

_Come hear the band!_

_Come blow a horn-_

_Start celebrating!_

_Right this way-_

_Your table's waiting."_

* * *

><p>I made some good friends at the club- cats that I wouldn't have talked to otherwise. I had never known before then that the shy Quaxo was also the eccentric Master of Ceremonies, better known by his stage name, Mistoffelees. Exotica turned out to be one of the club's dancers, not nearly as timid and mysterious as everyone had thought. I became acquainted with the patrons of the club, as well.<p>

I became better acquainted with one more than the others, finally doing what all believed I would never do- I fell in love.

* * *

><p>"<em>No use permitting<em>

_Some prophet of doom_

_To wipe every smile away!_

_Life is a cabaret, old chum-_

_Come to the cabaret!"_

* * *

><p>When Coricopat and Tantomile had predicted an imminent demise for the tribe, I was one of the skeptics. One of the few things my love and I had agreed upon was that the Jellicle tribe wouldn't be ending any time soon- it had thrived for years, and was only just reaching its prime! Sure, Macavity's empire was expanding even further throughout Europe- his influence was especially notable in Berlin- but the Junkyard Tribe had always been able to resist his attacks. What was happening elsewhere wasn't going to affect us.<p>

Or so we thought.

* * *

><p>"<em>I used to have a girlfriend<em>

_Known as Elsie._

_With whom I shared_

_Four sordid rooms in Chelsea._

_She wasn't what you'd call_

_A blushing flower…_

_As a matter of fact,_

_She rented by the hour!"_

* * *

><p>The real-life "Elsie" went by the name of Cassandra. But the composers of the song couldn't think of a town that would rhyme with her name, and changed it.<p>

Surprisingly, I had been a quiet, demure queen before meeting my wild Abyssinian roommate. She was the one who had introduced me to the seedy nightlife of London, before showing me the sleaziest place of all- the club. She had put me in contact with the club's manager, and the rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

><p>"<em>The day she died, <em>

_The neighbors came to snicker._

'_Well, that's what comes of_

_Too much pills and liquor!'_

_But when I saw her laid out_

_Like a queen…_

_She was the happiest corpse I'd ever seen!"_

* * *

><p>It gives me some small measure of joy to know that Cassie didn't live to see the tribe's downfall. Of course, it's negated by the fact that I could have prevented her death, if only I had followed the high queen when she wandered off with some strange tom.<p>

Her body had been found floating in the Thames the morning after that party. The funeral had taken place in the afternoon, and I hadn't cried when I saw her bloated body decorated in jewelry and flowers. It was just like Cassie- always trying to look her best, even in death. I could almost hear the sleek queen chuckling darkly behind me.

Now I step slowly onto the stage, taking a deep breath before continuing the song.

"_I think of Elsie to this very day._

_I remember how she'd turn to me and say…_

'_What good is sitting alone in your room?_

_Come hear the music play…'" _My voice falters, but I persist.

"'_Life is a cabaret, old chum-_

_Come to the cabaret!'" _My feet tap out the rhythm, sending clouds of dust swirling through the air. It almost looks like the smoke sent up by the customers' cigars; dew glinting off the cobwebs begins to look like the flashing sequins of the dancers' clothes.

"_And as for me?_

_As for me,_

_I made my mind up back in Chelsea-_

_When I go, I'm going like Elsie!" _A sob escapes from my throat, but I keep pressing on. If I'm going to die soon, I want to die like Cassie. I want everyone to remember my name; I _want _to be known as the new Glamour Cat.

Bombalurina, the Glamour Cat…

I'm half-screaming as I realize how true the next lyrics are.

"_Start by admitting_

_From cradle to tomb_

_Isn't that long a stay!_

_Life is a cabaret, old chum-_

_Only a cabaret, old chum-" _I feel tears come to my eyes as I belt out the last line.

"_And I love a cabaret!" _I hold out the syllable until I run out of breath and stop.

Then I simply stand there, panting. The dust is settling, and is no longer smoke- it's just dust. The sequins revert back to cobwebs. The glitter and glamour fades, and I jump as I hear clapping.

"Very good, Bombsy," the tuxedoed tom sitting in the corner compliments wryly. "You haven't lost your touch."

I dart down off the stage, rushing over and hugging him tightly.

"Misto! You're… you're back! For how long?" I whisper hoarsely. He had left London after the invasion, fleeing from Macavity and taking all the cats he could along with him. He smiles softly, returning the embrace.

"For as l need to be, Bombsy," he replies gently. "A revolution is coming, though nobody sees it. You know and I know that Macavity can't stay in power forever- we just have to set the spark for rebellion. We'll make ourselves free again, Bombsy."

"But… what can _I _do?" I ask shakily. "I'm just a singer, and not a great one at that…"

"You can give the Jellicles the courage to resist."

"How?"

And, hesitantly, he tells me.

* * *

><p>I stand firmly on top of the tallest pile in the Junkyard, fingering the small piece of metal in my hand. I take a deep breath, moving my hands behind my back before I begin.<p>

"Jellicles," I call out. "Listen to my song. Remember it. Repeat it. Drive it into the heart and soul of every cat in London; let it give you hope for a brighter future."

A few heads turn hesitantly towards me, and I start to sing. It's my last performance, and I'm determined to make it memorable.

"_The sun on the meadow is summery warm,_

_The stag in the forest runs free._

_But gather together to greet the storm;_

_Tomorrow belongs to me!"_

More cats start to listen, ears pricking up with curious eyes watching.

"_The babe in his cradle is closing his eyes,_

_The blossom embraces the bee._

_But soon says a whisper,_

'_Arise! Arise!_

_Tomorrow belongs to me!'"_

I see scowling henchcats creep forward from the shadows, and I resist a smirk. Good. Macavity will remember this lesson, too.

"_Oh, Fatherland, Fatherland,_

_Show us the sign_

_Your children have waited to see._

_The morning will come when the world is mine!_

_Tomorrow belongs… tomorrow belongs…" _I pause, then continue loudly, wanting every soul in the Junkyard to hear my words..

"_Tomorrow belongs to me!"_

The henchcats begin running towards me, and this time I _do_ smirk as I lift the small blade to my chest.

"_Auf wiedersehen," _I state, smile spreading. _"A bientot." _The knife pricks my chest, a drop of blood staining the white fur. I shove it in up to the hilt, with a triumphant, pained cry of _"Good night!"_

I realize that I won't be known as the Glamour Cat. My name will be passed down through generations as Bombalurina, the queen who lit the flame of rebellion. And as I lay on the ground, dying, I can almost hear Mistoffelees and Cassandra whispering to me.

"You did good, Bombsy. You did good."

* * *

><p><em>Start by admitting<em>

_From cradle to tomb_

_Isn't that long a stay!_

_Life is a cabaret, old chum-_

_Only a cabaret, old chum-_

_And I love a cabaret!_

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, that's right- Raptor's back! Er, sort of.<strong>

**Anyway! This is just a oneshot, but I plan on doing more set in this universe. They'll also probably be based off of/inspired by Cabaret. The songs used in this were Cabaret, Tomorrow Belongs to Me (with a verse cut out) and the last line or two from Finale/Willkommen (Reprise). And, since I don't look like John Kander, Fred Ebb, Andrew Lloyd Weber, or T.S. Eliot, I own neither Cabaret nor Cats.**

**I believe I was going to add something else, but I don't remember what.**

**I hope you enjoyed! :) And, in case you're wondering, I think the next one in this little series (which I'm going to call the Cabaret series unless I come up with a better title) will be called "Willkommen." ;)**

**Please review! Because reviews make the world go 'round, the world go 'round, the world go 'round!**

**Er... indeed. I'm going to stop this AN before it gets to long. XD Once again, I hope you enjoyed!  
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